


Storms in the Rise

by dasakuryo



Series: Small Measure of Peace [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Politics, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 00:49:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11543967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dasakuryo/pseuds/dasakuryo
Summary: A seemingly harmless conversation that turns into a quarrel. From all things Jyn has envisioned happening after Endor, rebels fighting one another wasn't certainly one of them. Trust has suddenly turned into a luxury.





	Storms in the Rise

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have much explanation for this... other than I'm a sucker for Cassian and Jyn supporting one another. Hope you enjoy! :D

“Kriff, Cassian!” Jyn growled, “keep still.”

He pushed her hand away again. Every single muscle of her jaw and neck knotted. She gnashed her teeth before letting out another scowl, “if you do that again, I'll punch you myself.”

He grunted and his hand fell slack on his lap with a faint thud. Jyn glared at him, cheeks swept by hard lines and green eyes smoldering, before leaning forward and dipping the gauze into the kolto. She tapped the gash with it, applying more pressure with her fingers when Cassian let out a hissed whimper. She hadn't even finished disinfecting the wound when she felt —and saw— him squirming beneath her touch.

"I am fine," he stated around a groan, not even bothering to hide his frustration anymore, "this is ridiculous, Jyn. Give me a bacta pat—"

He grunted a curse when she practically jammed her finger on the wound, clearly applying more pressure than deemed necessary.

"I am not letting you go until I'm done," she fought back, "you've got a nasty cut there," she reminded him, voice laced around a scowl, pointing at the deep gash across his cheek and the bloody business on his nose bridge.

Of all things that Jyn had imagined happening that night, nursing a fresh set of wounds wasn't one of them. She'd envisioned the night ending in a more interesting, enjoyable fashion for both of them at Cassian's private quarters -him being a major had its perks, after all. From all the things Jyn could have wrapped her mind coming down after Endor, Cassian getting into a fistfight with another rebel hadn't made the cut.

Jyn would have never thought the conversation would end up taking the turn it did. She wouldn't have expected Fergus Beirne to make such an utterly idiotic comment in the first place; neither not having backed down, nor recognizing himself at fault when Kes called him out on it. At some point the debate had turned into a wrangle and then into a dispute with fists included. Whatever Beirne's squad members had been spreading around, Jyn was absolutely sure it was him who had thrown the first punch. He totally had it coming, and she probably shouldn't felt pleasure bubbling in her chest nor a smile tensing her lips upon remembering the thump of Cassian fist _colliding_ with Fergus' face.

“What else could you expect from a Festian?” one of the pilots had shouted while dragging an equally -if not more severely injured- Fergus Beirne away. Jyn was busy at the time holding down Cassian, because if not she would have probably flung a well-propelled and aimed kick right between the pilot's legs. Her jaw knotting, she remembered her muscles tensing and her grip turning tight, to keep Cassian away from going after him, that his arms were practically digging into her sides.

Cassian's face contorted again when a new gauze soaked in kolto came into contact with the torn and swollen, sensitive skin. His breath slid out from his lips in an erratic, uneven sigh. Jyn blew out a sigh of her own and released her grasp on the moistened fiber. It ended right next to Cassian's balled hand. Tentative fingers touching around the wound, she licked her lips. Nothing seemed out of place.

Cassian fidgeted slightly under her touch, but didn't flinch away. Grabbing yet another gauze, this time dripping in kolto, she scrubbed and swept the blood off his nose and cheek. Mauve, lilac blurs were starting to haze, sharpen its way onto his skin. She wanted to flash him a smile, but her lips wouldn't curl, they trembled instead when she realized the hard lines clawing at his muscles -on the vertex of his jaw, fists, arms, neck. A dark emotion clouding his eyes.

“Fergus can go jump into a rancour's pit,” she commented, as casually as if she was appreciating the weather.

Cassian snorted, and a smile played around the sudden lines creasing his face.

“Not sure there are many pits of that sort around here,” he muttered, voice muffled and oddly nasal by the the grip of Jyn's fingers, pressing bacta onto the cuts.

Her lips did curl into a smile this time, “then I will drag him to Tatooinee and throw him into one myself,” she fought back, voice on the verge of quivering with the giggle building up spasms in her stomach, “I'm sure Bodhi'd agree. We can take care of the deed on our own, so nobody can tie it to you.”

“Because if my girlfriend and my best friend do it instead,” he scrunched up his face, sucking in a whine, “that wouldn't raise suspicions. Like, at all. Right, Sergeant Erso?”

Jyn puckered her lips and narrowed her eyes, pressed and swept a fingertip over the angle, hard bone of his nose, scrubbing small circles on his skin. Cassian hissed, probably muttering another curse, as she rubbed the glutinous substance coating the injuries. She managed to flash a brief smile of clamped lips, feeling the already flushed skin chafe further under her touch.

“We can get Skywalker to do that mind trick of his,” Jyn shrugged, jutting out her lower lip, “nobody would suspect a thing.”

She cut the medical tape with her teeth. She was about to press the folded, clean gauze onto his nose, ready to secure it in place when she caught sight of movement. His fingers were a tight, warm swathe around her wrist. Jyn smile widened.

For a fleeting moment, her memories wandered off to that mission on Tattooine, barely a few months after Scarif, along with Ezra Bridger. She remembered the nasty wounds after her encounter with the bounty hunters, the Zabraks clearly familiar with hand-to-hand combat. She remembered the way Cassian had nursed the injuries she'd been awarded with after that clash, recalled the patience, the warmness of it all. It was funny, for the lack of a better word, how the roles were reversed now —and yet, Cassian was pretty much acting like she had back then.

“Something tells me Skywalker won't agree to it,” he noted, voice quivering with the promise of a chuckle at the very end.

“His loss, truly,” Jyn said, patting the ends of the tape with care, “would have thought he'd enjoy putting someone in their rightful place.”

“I think you're exaggerating,” Cassian breathed out, his hand straying to her face to cup her cheek.

She wiggled her eyebrows before pressing a swift kiss to the heel of his hand; a soft crease ridged the softness of her face then, right next to the corner of her mouth. His fingers wrapped around her wrist, “I don't know. How do you know Fergus doesn't belong in a rancour's pit, uh?”

The chuckle fell free from his lips, and she couldn't help but join in the laughter. Stooping, he rested his forehead on hers, his uneven breathing tickling her face with every exhale. Jyn swallowed a smile when she looped her arms behind his neck, dragging him close. He breathed out a hiss when her nose touched his.

“Sorry,” she murmured, hauling down to press a fleeting peck to his mouth.

He foiled her retreat, hand hugging the curve of her neck. His thumb drew aimless circles over her quickening pulse. Jyn nibbled her bottom lip, trying to keep the smile from breaking free on her face. Her fingers sank into his hair, scraping along, ruffling the locks on his nape.

Jyn heard the contented sigh. Still, something kept nudging at her mind, wrenched her gut. It was the fight, or rather, what the fight had put forth and revealed. People had set aside their differences over the years to fight the evil of the Empire. They'd stashed away from old grudges to personal feelings for the sake of freedom, to aim for a better tomorrow.

But when the long awaited tomorrow had come, all had resurfaced. It hadn't been a coincidence that Fergus Beirne had said what he'd said, that now it was high time the Rebellion looked after the Core and Mid World planets. Bodhi had chuckled, believing this was but a follow up of the friendly conversation about what to expect now that the Emperor was gone, mentioned that of course, once we secure and give aid to the Outer Rim first.

It hadn't been pretty.

* * *

“Why? The Outer Rim's got support from the Alliance and our allies for years now. The war's over,” he retorted, with a condescending tone that made Jyn's fingers clench, “the Empire would retreat to secure the capital. The Outer Rim doesn't need-”

“So, you're saying the Outer Rim is now free of any Imperial control and influence, because all will invariably flee to Coruscant,” in came a grave voice to her left. Kes had also risen to his feet; Jyn didn't miss on Shara tugging at her husband's cuff; “aren't you?”

It was an implicit warning for Fergus to re-asses his words and back down, to realize the Outer Rim was still a war front, that the people still needed the help of the Alliance to keep Imperials forces out, keep them from seizing control again. If all Alliance forces flew to Coruscant, the remaining imperial forces and surviving skilled Admirals and Generals would take the opening. If the Alliance made such an irresponsible, insensitive move, it would give the Empire and its sympathizers the chance to drag on the conflict for months-

Or even worse, a new _leader_ could arise to take the Emperor's place.

Months could easily turn to years.

And peace could, just like that, slip through their fingers. The price of such negligent shortcoming would be paid in lives, in blood, in yet even more sacrifices-

“Of course I am,” Fergus practically snorted. The fleeting smile that had curled his lips tensed all the muscles on her jaw. “Besides, this war is _your_ fault.”

Her blood ran slow when the warmth of Cassian's hand left her knee. “Excuse me?” Cassian snapped, on the verge of a growl, jerking up from his seat.

“You've heard me,” Fergus spit out. “This war is _your_ fault.”

She tried to grab him, but she only managed to scrape his jacket. She saw Cassian's fingers twitching as he took a step forward. Heaviness constricted her chest, she wanted to move, but found her muscles wouldn't respond, frozen. Her throat bobbed, heart pulsing in her ears staring at Cassian taking yet another step forward, closer to Fergus.

An uncomfortable, tense silence had settled over the room. A heavy, gut-wrenching, dangerous silence. Everyone's attention in the immediate vicinity was on the scene playing before them. Fergus hadn't backed down one bit, stood there, strutting out his chest and looking down on those right across him.

Instead of snapping with a bickering retort, Cassian rose above the preposterous provocation, and tried in his conciliatory tone, "I'm sure you don't—"

"What?" Fergus cut in in another snort, "I don't mean it?" the disdain was evident even in the way his face twisted, "oh, but I _do_."

They were barely at arm's length. Jyn heard a thud, out of the corner of her eye caught a glimpse of Bodhi standing up. There was something heavy and electric floating in the air, something that constricted her chest and made her heart thump, hurt against her sternum. Fergus took another step forward and Jyn noticed the slight roll of Cassian shoulders, the tip of her boot bit the floor.

"I mean every bit of it," Fergus spit out the words with venomous disdain, " _you dirty Sep_."

 Jyn couldn't see it, but Cassian's face twisted in anger, his eyes blazed with fury. The rage that boiled in his veins made him grit his teeth, jaw clenching so hard that pain swept across his cheeks. He channeled it all squaring his shoulders. 

"Come on, the Clone Wars was—"

But he couldn't even try to reason with Fergus. He interrupted with an equally disdaining and acid, " _your fault_. Who supported Dooku? Who supported Griveous? Who supported the Confederacy?"

His nails hurt his palms. The rage was constricting his throat and Cassian knew perfectly well that he would snap if he didn't tread carefully. He knew he was on the verge of snarling viciously at Fergus, "the Confederacy didn't just appear out of thin air. There were issues in the Outer Rim that the Republic never—"

"Oh, come on. But can't say it surprises me, a dirty Sep going _against democracy_."

His right hand was a fist now; tension was knotting his shoulder to the point of flaring up pain. He could have stabbed that statement saying the Republic had no problem looking the other way and did nothing to fight the injustices they had claimed to be against. After all, had they done anything to stop slavery in the Outer Rim? The Hutt clan, Zygerria. Hadn't they enslaved men for the war, hadn't they made carnage out of them? Cassian didn't have fond memories of the Republic troops, not exactly at least. And still—

"We wanted our sovereignties and the Republic to respect them," he managed to let out in a levelled tone, but the growl was rippling through its quavering pitch.

He left it at that, the condescending _ugly sep_ echoing in his mind did not do much to stop his anger, but he pushed it down, taking a deep breath. He took a step back; he was pivoting on his heels to turn around when the other rebel spoke again.

"The clones should've taken care of you lot."

Before he even registered what he was doing, he was indeed snarling with _my people died_ , the rage cut in the words, turning them into nothing but a guttural ireful growl. Whatever Fergus said, he didn't listen, he saw the creases sprouting on his jacket. He barely dodged the first punch, the second swept across his arm and made his jacket swish. The third he wasn't that lucky, he'd thought someone would have managed to stop him before a fistfight broke out.

It got him right in the nose.

He coughed. Something warm and liquid leaked down at the back of his mouth; the coppery sweet tang pooled as he slid his tongue along the roof of his mouth. It wasn't until his stunned mind managed to see through his blurred vision, that he realized nobody on Fergus end was trying to stop him.

When his sight caught the blur of movement, he did not think, he reacted. Pain erupted from his knuckles and rattled up his arm when his fist slammed into the side of Fergus face.

* * *

"Cassian," he hummed into the crook of her neck, "Fergus wasn't right."

She had to say it, even if she knew Cassian knew it. Jyn had to bring herself to say it. Like he'd reminded her she was _not_ her father, his sins were _not_ hers either. She wanted to tighten the hug as soon as the words rolled out of her mouth, but instead she stroke the curve of his neck, fingers feeling the bumps of his spine, nestling in the small dips.

Cassian shifted in the embrace. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, the touch long, lingering. Jyn hummed into the kiss, reveling in the warm contact point of his lips. Her fingers came to life, threading with his.

Her hand lowered to his back, she felt the lines of tension through the leather. Her hand skimmed in between his shoulder blades, pressing lightly, mapping circles. She indulged in feeling the hard angles through the clothes. Her fingertips nudged, ever so slightly, as she traced an aimless unplanned path on his back. His breathing puffed out, she felt it, warm and tingling, blowing her hair away. Jyn felt the tension loosening out from his muscles underneath her touch, slightly. The intricate net of hard tautness lines up towards his neck had almost melted away.

Jyn had to bite down her lips, press them tightly shut, to keep the hum of contempt inside her mouth. It wasn't the tickle of his fingers running through her hair, but the way he melted into the embrace, getting rid of any nook of distance keeping them apart, what tensed and curled her lips into a smile. He nestled against her, fitting his body with hers with a small, swift sway forward. The contact of his warmth with her chest made something sing in her throat, deep and low and tender, tugging at her cheeks. She hid her smile in the curve of his shoulder, shifting with care to avoid touching his injuries on accident.

"I know," she heard him whisper eventually. The air came out in a sigh, a long, _tired_ sigh.

Her fingers curled and her grasp wrinkled his jacket. Something shattered inside her at the sound, at the resignation she felt woven into that shuddered breath. Anger tensed her jaw and she wished nothing but to introduce Fergus to her batons.

"He's a kriffing idiot— His brain's full of bantha fodder," she added, sad that she hadn't managed to conjure more eloquence into that statement.

The pressure constricting her heart loosened its grasp when she heard the murmur of Cassian's laughter, low and deep, a step away from turning higher and being overtaken by acute ripples. He muffled his chuckle pressing his lips to her forehead again, but the tremors of his laugh swept over the spot when his mouth touched her.

His thumb brushed along her cheek. Jyn untangled her arms holding him close, distance suddenly built between them again. A smile dangled on her lips when her gaze met his, it broke free on him, curling his lips, ploughing wrinkles on his cheeks and the corner of his eyes.

"Thank you," he said, thumb tracing the angle of her cheek, caressing back and forth.

She bit her lips, "anytime."

He leant forward, rested his forehead on hers. Jyn's eyes fluttered shut, she relished on the warmness of his breathing breezing over her skin, tickling in its touch. She sucked in a breath, taking him in along. The gentle sway of them, gliding against each other, in that embrace, with every breath they took… made everything else vanish from her mind —if only for a fleeting moment.

She tilted her head and pressed a peck to his mouth. He stirred, lips promptly awakened and searching hers, sliding over hers, moving smoothly, as if tracing. She smiled into the kiss, and he nudged right below her lower lip, coaxing a gap open.

Something slow, dense and warm fluttered deep within her when he caught her bottom lip with his mouth, lips squeezing and gliding gently. A heave built up in her throat, puffed out against him and her. He moved, withdrawing, and the ghost of his touch itched, warm, on her. She jerked up, following the electric pull binding her mouth to his.  

A whimper rustled the silence, "I'm sorry," she apologized in a whisper, after accidentally touching the bandages when she reached for his face, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he said, eyebrows scrunched up, "it could be worse," the breathy tone rippled, and she hoped because it was laced around a chuckle, and not pain, "could've got me in the mouth."

Jyn frowned, suppressing the urge to laugh, "like that has stopped you before, Major 'it doesn't hurt' Andor," a sharp, pointy poke in his forearm.

"Hey, the meds made me dizzy that time," he complained, voice trembling, now surely about to laugh.

"Bacta and painkillers don't fog your mind," she jammed her finger again on his arm, "to that point— you'd a busted lip," she felt in the need of remind him with an exasperated tone, "with cuts, blood and everything," she wondered whether she should also remind him his lower lip and right side of his chin were but mingled splashes of blue and purple shades.

"And we're discussing this now because—" Cassian trailed off, stroking her jawline. A lopsided smile tugged at the corner of his lip, and she'd protested under other circumstances. His thumb traced a mischievous path on the side of her neck, her pulse quickened underneath his touch.

"You stash away your pain and ignore it," Jyn said, dead-serious, "say nothing's wrong when—" she swallowed, suddenly too aware that the bubble had burst out and the mischievous light had faded from his eyes, his expression clouded by a veil of gauntness which found the way to drape over his face, "when something's bothering… hurting you and I—" the silence that had suddenly settled ached in her chest, "you don't have to do that— not with me."

He lowered his gaze, she heard the flutter of his jacket and saw, felt him skewing around. His hand scraped her arm; his fingertips traced a trail of feathery tinges to her wrist. His fingers slid underneath her palm, pushed in between her hand and his jacket. Her clasp on his arm loosened, pulling away, and then his fingers were intertwined with hers.

Cassian took her hand in his, but he kept his gaze lowered. Something jittered inside her, she curled her fingers, clasping his hand tighter, but he did not seem to take notice of the gentle squeeze. Mouth going dry, nervousness itched at the back of her throat. She was about to ask him if he was okay when he let looked up, brown eyes glistening with a light she couldn't quite make out. Something bright, something dark was glimmering and pooling on the brown of his irises.

"You don't have to do that either," he said at last, voice barely above a whisper and yet firm. He brushed his thumb over her knuckle, "you don't have to leave the shields up, you can be vulnerable," his voice higher then, "you don't have to be strong all the time."

Fair was fair. She often did the same, sometimes answered on the verge of snapping and lashing out when someone insisted. Appearing stony, cold, impassive was a mechanism of defense, preservation. It meant minimizing the chances of anyone spotting any weakness to exploit; she'd done that for years. It had kept her alive, when she was on the run, when she was a fugitive.

She wasn't a fugitive anymore, or at least for years she'd stopped being only a fugitive, marked as wanted by the Empire. She'd found a home, friends, comrades in arms in the Rebellion—

She'd found Cassian.

She wasn't alone anymore. She'd come a long way from those times of solitude, of fear, of the ever looming threat of danger nipping at her heels. Sometimes it was hard to remember that things had changed.

"I promise I—" she didn't know exactly what to say, until the thought flickered through her mind, warmth on her chest at the memory, "you're right, _trust goes both ways_ , after all."

He chuckled.

"I don't know how exactly we ended up talking about this," his voice shivered with the remains of laughter.

"I think it had something to do with kissing," she said, picking at her lip, "better get back on topic."

Cassian didn't have any objections to that statement.

 

 

"Better watch your back, folks," Cassian dig his nails into his palm and kept walking, "you'll never know now when a sep will stab you in the back."

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the way Jyn clenched her hands, caught sight of her shoulders hunching. His fingers gripped her arm and she raised her eyebrows at him, frustration lines creasing her forehead.

"What?"

He could but shoot him a knowing glare, and wrapped his fingers tighter around her arm.

"Leave it. It's not worth it."

He was expecting her to shoot him an annoyed glare in turn, not to see a pleased smile breaking through her features, curving her lips into a lopsided smile of satisfaction. Suddenly the tension underneath his grasp evaporated.

The reason came soon enough in a strong, stentorian voice that Cassian could have recognized anywhere in an instant. Though jaded by time, its characteristic timbre was unmistakable. The same voice that had belonged to thousands across the galaxy, the same voice, distorted by helmet comms, that Cassian had heard has a child.

"Of course, you're an expert on that," Cassian turned, and beneath the affable grin plastered on Rex's face, he knew of the anger boiling beneath its surface, "about betrayal, and killing. Don't you, coruscanti?"

He shuffled, following Jyn, who had the _fantastic_ idea of approaching the lot. As if Fergus needed any excuse to quarrel with them, particularly him, again. There was something twisting Fergus face, disgust, or was it— fear? His hand was twitching, as he held the gaze of the former clone trooper.

"You talk about betrayal, and killing. You said something about defending the Capital yesterday, fighting the Separatist, the war—" he gestured vaguely with his hand, and his smile widened, "I'd love to hear more about it, from you. An expert, I am sure," Rex nods, a lone, sharp nod, and Cassian could have sworn the shadow of another type of smile flickered across his features, "how old were you at the time of the Clone Wars, _kid_?" his voice is soft, but he might as well have spit acid onto Fergus' face.

"Seven."

Rex chuckles, and pats him on the shoulder.

"Did you hear that Wolffe? The boy was _seven_ during the Clone Wars," he said over his shoulder, voice high, laced with laughter, "tell me boy, who was your Republic Hero? Was it General Kenobi? General Windu perhaps? Oh… wait, was it The Hero With No Fear?"

"What's the point of this?"

Fergus face scrunched up further. His foot glided over the duracrete, as if he was seriously thinking about taking a step backward. And in came Wolffe, all sternness and calculated gaze, reinforced even by the gleam of his cybernetic eye. Cassian knew exactly what was in store for Fergus the moment Wolffe, who rarely smiled and was the personification of military rectitude, curled his lips into a _smirk_.

"Come on, boy," he said, voice grave and levelled, not a hint of laughter rippling through it this time, "we're chatting. We're all former Republic supporters here, kid. Come on, boy, who was your Republic hero?"

Fergus did not answer, just stared at him. Blankly.

"Shy, aren't we?"

The chuckle that escaped the former commander lips would have made Cassian's blood run cold, had he been in Fergus place. Jyn coughed by her side, balled hand to her mouth, stifling the giggle.

"I'll go first, Wolffe, it's only fair, I asked after all," Rex cleared his throat, "my brothers, the clones. Commander Tano. Those were my heroes, kid. Wolffe?"

"My brothers, my general. Master Plo Koon, have you ever heard of him?" Fergus shook his head, and the more the clones talked, the more it seemed Fergus was crumbling down. "Kel'Dor. Looked after us, won't leave a man behind," he made a pause to clear his throat, "reminded every men under his command we weren't just clones."

_"What's the matter Commander?"_

_"A kid, sir. Threw some rocks at us. Seems pretty shaken, won't talk at all. Tracer's trying to see if he can find a safe route to get him home. This area is littered with ground mines, sir."_

_"We might save some time if I return the child to the safety of his family myself. I've given the order to pull back, as it is there can be too many civilian casualties. Senator Chuchi will arrive in five standard hours; we might be able to settle this without any losses on either side."_

_"I will let Sergeant Sinker know, sir. We'll secure the camp before nightfall."_

_"Make sure everyone's inside before dark. The temperature will drop even more, and I am afraid the Force will be no ally against the merciless cold of Fest, Commander."_

_"Understood, sir. The kid's over there; seems to be calmer around Comet—"_

_"Koh-toh-ya, little one."_

_(He still remembered the raspy, metallic yet soft voice reverberating over the deafening whistle of the blizzard. A hand of claw-like fingers extending, gentle.)_

"Unlike your Republic, unlike your Senate," Wolffe voice was low, a smoldering roar of anger, "who asked themselves if we were even human. _Do they even feel?_ I felt every single death of my brothers," Fergus recoiled, took a step back, swallowed. "You want to speak about betrayal? Your senate, your Chancellor, the _Emperor_ , instructed chips were planted on our brains to control us— your senate, your Republic made us _betray_ our commanders, our generals, made us kill _younglings_ on the Jedi Temple," his face twisted with fury as he spitted out word after word, "you made my brothers _kill_ the first who considered us _equals_ and you— _you_ — want to speak of _betrayal_? You want to speak of _blame_? Tell me to my face that the Republic was _innocent._ "

* * *

"I could have handled it," Cassian muttered, eyebrows squishing together in a tight frown.

"I'm sure, kid," Rex chuckled, "I'm sure. But I was dreaming to make him shut his mouth, you know," he shot him a wide smile, the affable smile turned kinder by the bushiness of his white beard, "won't you grant an old man that, uh?"

"Technically, major Andor is older than you, general, by two standard months," Kay-Tuesso provided diligently, in his usual matter-of-fact and brisk tone. "Cassian, Senator Organa and Senator Pamlo have requested a meeting with you; shall I tell them you're not available at the moment?"

"No, I— tell them I will be there shortly," he saw the droid's foto-receptors get dimly lit, and he swallowed down a sigh, "I'm coming, thanks, Kay," he figured it would be better to not keep the Senators waiting, the fact they'd not only summoned him but sent Kay to look for him seemed to signal it was important.

His boots thumped on the duracrete. He heard the stomps of Kay trudging away. He meant to follow him with haste, but his feet froze on their spot when his eyes met Jyn's gaze.  

"We're not even here," Rex laughed, patting Wolffe on the shoulder.

Jyn arched an eyebrow, lips twitching into a scowl. A clear sign challenging him to dare to _just_ walk away.

 

"Jyn," she hummed, tapped the screen to turn to the page of the report. Cassian's fingers skimmed on her thigh "have you ever thought about—"

He fell silent all of a sudden. The oddity of the question made her frantic with worry; she laid the data-pad aside, and covered his hand with hers. She clasped it, a fleeting but reassuring grasp.

"Have you ever thought about going back to Coruscant?"

 

**Author's Note:**

> Had they lived, I've always envisioned Cassian would actively have safeguard the restored freedom, while trying to keep history from repeating itself, and of course, that Jyn would have stood by him, I picture them and the whole of Rogue One sticking up for the Outer Rim planets —war fronts during the Clone Wars, war fronts during the Galactic civil war as well. 
> 
> I also have many Clone Wars feels, and love all my clone boys dearly. Wolffe and Rex were amazing, and it's indeed canon in Rebels that Rex does join the rebellion, I figured Wolffe at some point did so as well. I wanted to make them to voice their rage towards the Republic and Palpatine, which used them for years *remembers TCW shows and cries rivers* I also included Plo Koon, because he was wonderful and doesn't get nearly enough love, and that pains me (also, Plo was a sweetheart with children, regardless of species, so there's that too).
> 
> This story functions as a sort of sequel (or rather follow up?) to Holding Cataclysm, even though you don't need to have read it to understand the story. It's also a loose prologue to Under These Starlit Skies as well, though there are gaps I left on purpose to fill in later at some point n_núu [Oh, Fergus is an OC, I needed someone to personify and be the voice of the Core worlds and well, it happened. Fyi, I hate him and I enjoyed immensely writing that punch from Cassian ;p]
> 
> Wow, these notes got extremely long and rambling, my apologies for that. I hope you have enjoyed the story, and that I didn't manage to bore you all with this commentary. Thank you so much for reading, I'd love to hear your thoughts :) Feedback is always appreciated! ♥


End file.
